Hold Tight To Dreams
by QuickSilverFox3
Summary: The Wizarding World is trying to piece itself back together, magic is in shambles and Ron is so tired.


**Week Two: Fort Building.**

**Build your own dreams, or someone else will hire you to build theirs.**

**Write about the golden trio trying to rebuilding the Magical world after the Battle for Hogwarts (100 points)**

Where had everything gone wrong? Ron stared listlessly down at the cup of coffee, the liquid long since gone cold, thoughts of the future tangled with memories of how the world used to be. The void, a tear in the magic that previously surrounded the world, lingered over the building like a bad dream, a lingering sense of malaise, a tang of metal in the air. Everything had seemed so simple as children in the perceived safety of Hogwarts, even with the poison of Lord Voldemort resurfacing at the end of every year. An endless cycle, every year the same... Until it wasn't. He longed to return to those easy days, the days where the worst things they were faced with was the taunts and jeers from Malfoy and his cronies, and the stifling sweetness of Professor Trelawney 's enclosed tower room. Ron could almost hear her warbling voice, beseeching them to 'open their Inner Eyes, broaden their minds', the soft jangling of her bangles as she gesticulated, the swish of her scarves as she moved, circling like a vulture, waiting to pounce on any student who was noticeably asleep.

Had she known? Had she somehow foreseen the tragedies which would occur, this shattered mess of a world they would be left with? Ron snorted, idly scratching at the scruff covering his cheek, the product of long working hours and a neglected dusty apartment. Whatever prophecies she may have been capable of, both lost to time now, the words faded in the minds of those who had heard them and still lived, no-one could have predicted the voids. His eyes darted to the alarm on the wall, the small light seeming suspiciously silent. A growing sense of unease began to bubble in his stomach. It had been too quiet for too long. He pinched his nose, gulping down the tepid coffee, ears popping, nose wrinkling at the bitter taste. It felt like electricity was running through the air, the void slowly starting to shift once more, a thunderstorm about to erupt. Some unknown instinct prompted him to place the cup upside down on the plate that previously held a corned beef sandwich, the motion barely even noticed as the alarm began to blare, blue light flashing. The noise haunted his nightmares.

Ron was halfway out the door as he strapped the heavy, pitted shield onto his arm, boots echoing down from the floors above, the hallway washed in the blue light of the alarm. The work was never finished. Ron grinned, a movement that was more of a grimace, teeth bared against an unknown assailant.

"Let's get a move on!" he called, his team falling into step behind him, "The void isn't going to wait for us!"

Night swiftly fell, darkness drawing across the sky like a shroud and drawing with it a deluge of rain, the world becoming eclipsed. The building lay dark, a few candles flickering in solitary rooms, people drawn together for company rather than companionship in this endless feeling night. A cleaning woman, Bella, tapped on the door of Ron Weasley's office, waiting a cursory few seconds before she pushed the door open.

The room was dark for a few moments before the small globe light shot into the room, bouncing slightly as it raised up into the middle of the ceiling, illuminating the small office with a bright yellow light. She carefully pushed her trolley in, rapping her wand against it as the brush and mop leaped out and began to move across the floor in perfect harmony. Carefully stepping over the wet path, she began to run the duster along the already clean surfaces, humming quietly to herself as she did so. The cup caught her eye, a striped mug with a crown emblazoned on it. Almost as an afterthought, she scooped it up and looked into the bottom, inspecting the dregs, gaze locking onto the two symbols stained there.

The clumsy circle with a small smudge in the centre dominated her view. She frowned, mouth twisting as she tried to remember. It had been so long since she had even picked up a Divination book, the subject driven into the dirt following the War. A new start, she thought, grinning. Always a good omen to see following tumultuous times. Next was... She twisted the cup in her hands, head tilting the opposite way. Her grandmother had always made this look so easy, black beady eyes peering into a cup for only a few seconds before she would announce the fate to the nervous witch or wizard in front of her. No baubles, no tricks. Just a drink and a biscuit at the kitchen table of their small country house, lazy dog beneath their feet.

Next was an anchor, she decided, tracing the symbol in the air with a finger. That meant... That meant... Stability, like an anchor on a ship. Almost unbidden, a tiny flutter of hope began to rise in her chest. After so long in darkness, in the pain that the void brought with it when the currents of magic shifted like the tides of the sea, here was a tiny spark of light. But this could be the cycle repeating itself. Prophecies being exploited into what people thought they should mean, rather than what they did. She wasn't a prophet, just someone trying to make her way in this new world. But still.

She placed the cup and saucer on her trolley to be returned to the kitchen, feeling the prickling on her skin that signified a patrol's return. And she had just cleaned the floors as well. It couldn't be helped. The mop and brush returned to her cart, the floor sparklingly clean at least for the next few minutes and she pushed the cart out of the office, globe light bouncing along next to her, cup rattling on the cart.

"Hello Bella," Ron Weasley called, raising one hand in greeting to her as he carefully walked up the corridor. Mud splattered his trousers, face pale and drawn with a livid red scratch across one cheek. He looked tired but triumphant.

"Hello Ron," Bella replied, offering him a supportive grin.

"You look happy, anything good?" Ron asked, unbuckling his shield, the metal seeming more pitted and scorched than the last time she had seen it. It truly had been a stroke of genius from his twin brothers to create them. Shields that could block magic that distorted when the void shifted, block common projectiles thrown by angry citizens or by the criminals they aimed to capture and help keep people safe on both sides of the conflict lines.

"No," Bella said brightly, the small spark of hope in her chest flickering into a small flame at the sight of tired but triumphant faces as the patrol filled past the duo, "Just got a good feeling about the future."

"Yeah?" Ron asked, hiding a yawn behind his hand, "Things are already looking up, patrol went well, so yeah."

He yawned once more, wider this time, his jaw almost seeming to crack with the effort.

"I'll let you get home," Bella said, inclining her head in goodbye as she moved down with her cart, Ron waving goodbye to her as he staggered towards his office.

It may be superstition; it may be magic once corrupted for their own gain. But there was hope for the future, and that was what was important.


End file.
